I Am Jack's Roger
by prying.delilah
Summary: Roger met him at a normal Life Support Meeting and As time goes on, this stranger has an undeniable influence on Roger. But as Roger changes, he and Mimi grow farther apart. Is Roger driving her into the arms of a certain pale geek? MarkMimi RogerSomeone
1. Chapter 1

**Allo, cordyangel here! I'm writing this one shot because the other day, I was watching _RENT_ and then I put on _Fight Club_ and I realized how similar they are! Really, if you look deep down, there are some honest to goodness similarities that cannot be denied. **

**I didn't want to put people off in the summary, but this is a _Fight Club/ RENT_ crossover. It's not especially essential for you to have read or seen Fight Club, but if you don't get anything, review and I'll explain. This story switches between perspectives, but you'll know. It starts out with the Narrator, who, for all intents and purposes, we will call Tyler. The only reason someone would have a problem with his name being Tyler would be if they'd read/seen Fight Club. And while I'm sure there are many out there, this is what has to be done. So read on, and review!**

**Disclaimer: Mark, Roger, Mimi, Life Support and everything else connected to the musical _RENT_ is the creation of Jonathan Larson and I do not own them. Tyler, the Narrator, Marla, Angel Face and anything connected to _Fight Club_ is the creation of Chuck Palahunik and is not owned by moi. _Slept So Long_ is a song by Orgy and is not owned by me.**

**_I see hell in your eyes  
Taken in by surprise_**

I had come full circle.

It had been two years since I'd gone to my first support group and here I was again. But now I wasn't here to cure insomnia. I was here to recruit.

"Let's go around the room and introduce ourselves." Of all the groups I'd been to these people looked the sickest, though Chloe had been a difficult skeleton to compete with. It was also my first one without nametags.

"Mark," a voice two seats away said.

What's my name?

"Roger," the blonde said next to me.

"My name is Tyler," I said, giving a little grin for nostalgia's sake."Tyler Durden."

FRFRFRFRFRFRFRFR

A new one came today. It was shitty, really. People died, but more people kept coming, filling the empty spaces. People never got smarter, they never stopped getting sick.

"Tyler. Tyler Durden."

The name sounded sort of familiar, but at the same time, this guy didn't look like a Tyler. He looked like a Rob or a Pete. He didn't seem to have the attitude to carry off Tyler.

I frowned a little. Why was I thinking about this so much?

But try as I did, my thoughts kept returning to Tyler. Maybe I'd spoken too soon. He was a little like Mark, but he was, admittedly more edgy. Tyler had a spark of danger behind his cool 'Devil May Care' attire.

"Tyler, do you want to say anything?" Paul asked him in his quiet voice. Silently I wondered how he'd survived this long. He was the only member left from the first meeting I'd gone to.

"Uh…no. I'm good." A wave of pity swept over the room for Tyler. If you didn't say anything, people assumed the worst.

"Okay," Paul said. "Roger?"

Traitor. I've always felt a bit like a deer caught in the headlights whenever I'm called on.

"Uh…" I saw Mark give me an encouraging look. "So, things are good. As good as they can be, I mean." I took a breath. "I've still got AIDS. HIV," I amended. "But I'm not afraid of death. Just afraid that I'm not making enough of the time I've got left."

Heads around the circle nodded in agreement.

"That was good," Paul said, his smile in his voice if not on his face.

A few more people went after me before they recited the mantra I knew so well.

"No day but today."

I stole a last look at Tyler. The words had never felt so loaded.

FRFRFRFRFRFR

Yep, he was the one.

I am Jack's tingling anticipation.

The hard part would be getting him away from the guy who was clinging to him fiercer than Angel Face had been clutching his nose after I'd broken it. I wondered briefly whether Roger and this kid were fucking each other.

No, I'd thought after a moment. They were probably making love.

I snorted. Roger must've been quite the sport fucker in his day, but he was tamed by this Howdy Doody filmmaker. How 'American Dream' of them. Luckily I was here to help with that.

"Hey," I said catching up with them. "Know where I could get a decent cup of coffee?"

Roger turned and gave me a sideways look. "Oh yeah, the Java Café, it's a couple streets down."

"Roger," the albino next to him admonished. "That was descriptive of you." He turned to me, holding out his hand. "I'm Mark."

"Well, if you're so good with directions then how come you don't tell him?" Roger grumbled.

I lifted an eyebrow. Oh yeah, they were definitely a couple.

"Why don't you take him?" Howdy suggested brilliantly.

Roger gave his boyfriend the same look he'd given the mediator at Life Support. It screamed betrayal.

"Anyway, I've got to meet Maureen. Something about a protest she wants help with." Mark turned away. I watched him go with a bit of disappointment. Part of me regretted the fact the kid was obviously too much of a pacifist for any kind of fighting. His skinny wiry frame held so many delicious possibilities.

Reluctantly Roger gestured for me to follow him. "This way."

FRFRFRFRFRFRFRFR

"Your boyfriend seems nice," Tyler said as we walked in the cold.

Boyfriend? "Mark? He's not my boy-"

"Hey, I'm not here to judge…whatever you do in your free time is none of my business…"

"He's not my boyfriend," I said firmly, turning a corner. "I've got a girlfriend."

"Ouch," Tyler winced. "I'd feel better for you if you had a boyfriend."

"Why?" I asked on an impulse. "Are you gay?"

Tyler let out a laugh. "Unfortunately, no. I wish though. Girls are vicious. They fuck you up, every time without fail."

A silent part of me agreed wholeheartedly.

"So what's yours name?" He asked as we entered the tiny café.

"The girl who fucked me up, or the one I'm with now?"

He screwed up his face. "They didn't both fuck you up?"

It was my turn to laugh. "No, they both fucked me up. But one came before the other."

Tyler leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "I've got time."

A waiter came by and took our order. I fiddled with sugar packets until he was gone and I slowly started to launch into my story.

"The first one," I began, "was April."

"And?"

I shot him a dirty look and he immediately shut up. "She was a junkie. I was a junkie. She slit her wrists after she found out about the HIV."

"One time, my girl swallowed a stomach full of Xanex. Scared me shitless." He seemed a bit amused by the memory, though I couldn't think why. "Luckily, it was one of those 'cry for help' things. Is that how you got it?"

"Either the drugs or the sex. I guess I'll never know. I guess it really doesn't matter. And the one now, her name is Mimi."

I stopped, waiting for him to interject, but he didn't. I cleared my throat and continued. "Was a junkie. But I wasn't anymore; I had just come out of withdrawal. She's clean now, but still sometimes I wonder…" Not wanting to talk about Mimi anymore, I turned the question around. "What about you? Who fucked you up?"

"Marla. God, I hate her. She's my wife. I think it was a strategic move, now she can fuck with me 24 hours a day 7 days a week." My gaze was caught by his wedding ring, something I'd missed before.

"How long have you two been married?"

"A year."

I let out a whistle. Tyler didn't strike me as the type who could be tied down for any length of him. "Does she have…?"

"No," he answered quickly. "Mimi?"

"Yeah. She was working today, so she didn't come. But yeah."

"I don't have AIDS either," he said matter of factly.

"What?"

"I'm as healthy as a horse. No tuberculosis, no blood parasites. No fucking testicular cancer."

"You're shitting me," I said plainly. I could sort of feel my mouth hangingopen and so I went on."That's sick man, you're twisted…these people…you trick them! For what? Money? Is that it, you pathetic, sell-out wannabe corporate dick-" Mark's words coming from my mouth.

I took a deep breath before I said anything else that I'd regret. Being with Mimi had taught me quickly to hold my tongue at times. "You make me sick," I said at last, throwing a few dollars on the table. Mimi and I would go hungry tonight, but I wasn't about to be indebted to this asshole.

FRFRFRFRFRFRFRFR

Okay, I correctly had expected Roger's blow up. I am Jack's utter lack of surprise. Winning Roger back would be well worth getting him pissed in the first place.

I ran out of the café after him. "You're mad," I said lamely.

"No kidding."

"So hit me."

Blunt. No foreplay, no pretty words. Roger and I weren't making love to each other, we were fucking.

Roger turned to look at me, his eyes wide and full of disbelief. "What?"

"You know you want to," I reasoned. "I want you to hit me."

"Hit you?" He asked again, still uncertain.

Gosh this one was full of questions. "As hard as you can," I rolled my eyes.

Roger stared at me like I'd grown several heads. "No," he said after a pause.

"Why not? It's what you want to do."

"Because you're not worth it," he began on the moral tirade I'd heard a million times before and had perfected in my yuppie days. "You're a-"

I cut him off. "You're an ex-junkie who was so wrapped up in his own fucked up life that he didn't even care about his girlfriend 'till she offed herself." I made sure that my voice had no malice, that when I delivered my performance, it was all in the tone of the casual observer I was.

"That was a long-" The temper I'd seen in Roger initially was beginning to show itself.

"A long time ago Roger?" I laughed a little. "People rarely chance, and when they do, it's never for the better. You can' honestly tell me that you don't wake sometimes and feel like you'd gladly give your right lung for a hit."

"Shut up!"

"And that sometimes, when you think no one will notice, you even buy some. But not to use, just to see. You still wish that you could feel as alive as you did when you were using."

Roger fell silent, but he was still listening. I steamrolled on.

"Tell me that you don't lie awake next to your precious Mimi some nights and wonder when she'll die too."

"Shut up," he said again, though unlike the first time, now it was a warning.

"And when you're done fucking her, you can't help but think, 'hey this is what she'll look like when she d-'"

I'd seen Roger's fist retract, but never really felt the blow. Like most addictions, fighting had numbed me. Every time I fought, I had to do it longer and harder to feel alive.

"Finally," I said as my own beautiful red blood dripped down my face. Slowly, I picked myself up and socked Roger in the stomach.

FRFRFRFRFRFRFRFRFRFR

It had been so long since I'd been in a fight. With Mark and Mimi, it was always words. With April, I'd slapped her a few times, but I never went farther than that. Even while high, I knew much better than that. Nothing could have prepared me for this though. Tyler was beating me, pounding me with more strength than he looked like he'd possess. The hands that were touching me now were so unlike Collins' or Mimi's or even Mark's. These hands didn't want to make me feel better; they didn't want to help me. They wanted to maim me, destroy me, and while I knew that, they still rivalled Mimi's sweetest caress and Mark's most comforting hug.

I gave one last punch and I was spent. We laid there, side by side until we caught our breaths. I looked into Tyler's beautifully broken face, ignoring his already swelling eye and caked with blood nose. I wanted to tell him the gift he'd given me, I hurt and therefore, I was. Tyler held up his hand however, before I could try to put into words what I was feeling.

"I want to show you something."

FRFRFRFRFR

I led him to the seedy bar a few minutes away.

Checking my watch, I gave a sigh of relief. 8:17. Good enough. "Follow me," I looked behind myself to make sure Roger was there.

We walked down the stairs and the smell of blood and sweat hit me. I was home.

FRFRFRFRFR

Why did I follow him? He was, after all, a stranger. A stranger who had only told me lies since the moment we met. But after our fight, I couldn't help but think that I'd follow him to the end of the world if he asked me to.

"Follow me," he said, his voice thick with excitement. As if I could keep myself from doing so. As we went downstairs, the few doubts I had flew from my mind. The thoughts of Mimi and Mark filed themselves away.

I could smell blood and sweat, the scents were embedded in the walls. It was disgusting, and yet strangely intoxicating.

He opened the double doors and I was met by a hundred or so guys. Some were shirtless, some were barefoot. I recognized one as a subway driver and a couple of the waiters from the Life were there, their shirts off and looking like they were anticipating the best lay of their lives. I turned to Tyler, begging for an explanation.

"Roger," Tyler looked at the men as he spoke, preening for them, putting on a show. "Welcome to Fight Club."


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so I sorta lied. This is no longer a one shot. But it will be update sort of irregularly since ****I've got so many other projects I'm working on.**

**Disclaimer: Song still by Orgy, _RENT_ still Jonathon Larson's, _Fight Club_ still Chuck Palahuniuk**

**This chapter is dedicated to PissiMissi, cuz...I love you.**

**_Hoping  
Hating  
Things that I can't bear_**

"Don't worry Mimi, Roger can take care of himself."

Still I flitted around our small kitchen as if possessed. I was washing dishes like a fiend, really scrubbing a plate when Mark came behind me and gently took it away.

"You have to stop worrying," he said firmly. "It's not good for you."

"I know," I said. "But…things are going good now, you know, between me and Roger. And now, he's been gone for hours." I looked at the clock on the wall. "It's almost eleven."

"Do you want me to wait upstairs for him?" Mark suggested.

I shook my head, though I knew that would be the sensible thing to do. "Can you just stay here until he gets back?" I asked him, knowing that it was unfair for me to ask him to. "Or just for a little while? I don't want to be alone right now."

"Sure," he said uneasily.

"Thanks." I rested my head onto his warm sweater swathed chest. I took deep breaths trying to calm myself but unable to banish all the fears circling in my head.

Pulling back, I looked into Mark's chillingly blue eyes, trying to stare him down. "Roger wouldn't leave me, would he?"

His face crumpled a little and for a minute I wondered if Roger actually had left me, if he'd told Mark he was going to leave me and had just told Mark to keep me busy. "Of course not!" Mark admonished me however. "He would never do that."

I nodded, still not feeling so sure.

"Besides," Mark rubbed my back in soothing little circles. "If Roger were going to leave you, he wouldn't have left his guitar," he said sensibly.

"Did he leave his guitar?"

Mark frowned. "I dunno, want me to go check _Goodbye Girl_ style?"

I smiled in spite of myself. "No, we'll just wait."

And we did, for another half hour, Mark quietly comforting me and being my rock like Roger should've been doing.

At last we heard a clatter of footsteps coming up the stairs. "That's him," I sprung out of Mark's embrace quickly. The last thing I needed was for Roger to find Mark and I cuddling, though nothing was going on. For a split second, Mark almost looked…disappointed? Sad? But immediately his mask of indifference came on and I was left to wonder if I had seen anything at all. "Thanks Mark," I said sincerely. "You're the best."

Knowing what to do, Mark slipped out of the apartment seconds before Roger reached the last flight of stairs. "Call me if you need anything," he said quickly before he slipped away.

"As if you'd answer," I whispered back.

Closing my door, it was flung open again by a stumbling Roger.

"Oh my gosh Roger, what the hell happened to you?

**RFCRFCRFCRFCRFCRFC**

The pain hadn't come yet, but I knew it would, eventually. But at the moment, I was numb. I knew that I should have been hurting, but I wasn't.

When confronted with the choice of whose place to crash at, there were certain people I knew were out of the question.

Mine. Mark would throw a complete hissy fit and was guaranteed to tell the whole group what had happened.

Maureen or Joanne, or both if for the time being they were together. Joanne would offer me legal advice on who I should press charges on and Maureen would try to find 'the bastard that did this' and beat him up. I had learned that the hard way.

Collins. He was the best choice so far, he'd be too busy smoking to realize that I may've gotten hurt. But who knew where he was? And besides, after losing Angel I couldn't impose on him like that.

So that left only Mimi.

"What the hell happened to you?"

I winced. I had washed off all the blood, but I had seen a mirror before I'd headed back. I had known those words were coming, but did they have to be so loud? It was almost as if I had a hangover, I seriously hated the way I felt but in no way regretted what I'd done to get myself here.

"Where the hell have you been?" Mimi asked again.

The first rule of Fight Club is-You do not talk about Fight Club.

"I've been worried sick about you! Mark was too!"

"Mark was here?" I asked, my words slightly slurred since my jaw was bruised so bad.

I could tell Mimi hadn't wanted to let that fact slip. I also knew that there was no way she was fucking Mark, but I needed to get her off my back.

"What was he doing here?"

Mimi looked cornered. "Don't you dare try to do this Roger, don't you dare!"

I ambled over to the couch and fell on it. "When you're ready to tell me what the hell is going on between you and Mark then I'll tell you where I was." A blatant lie.

The second rule of Fight Club is-You do not talk about Fight Club.

I can still feel Mimi's eyes locked on me and I can't help thinking that if I could name the disease ravaging my immune system…I'd name it Mimi.


	3. Chapter 3

So, on Wednesday, I had my play, _The Importance of Being Earnest. _It was extra good! I can't wait for April to be over though, because I still have two more shows, a dance competition and a showcase. But I should have a smidge more time for updating. We'll see. The line about the moon and wolves is not mine, it is George Carlin's. The part about April and her window are not mine, the idea belongs to Willa Cather. Enjoy, and review. Special thanks to Renthead, because you were the only person who reviewed. Not to be a bother, but with 180 hits and only two chapters, shouldn't there be a few more reviews? Just a few? Please? Anyway, Renthead, this chapter is for you.

Disclaimer: Nothing mine.

**BTW: The Narrator Tyler is most likely to return in the next post.**

**_Walking  
Waiting  
Alone without a care_**

The cold blue shadows danced around our abandoned loft. I still used the pronoun 'our', though in truth it hadn't been Roger's for some time. He was always with Mimi, in Mimi's apartment, fucking Mimi, soaking up everything Mimi. The moon was shining through the panes and I couldn't help but think of the song Roger had written for Mimi.

_Where there's moonlight, I see your eyes._

And in the dark, I could see her eyes, her brown, smiling eyes, beckoning, entrancing everyone who came near her. I wondered briefly if Roger ever remembered that that window had been April's. As soon as I could see Mimi's eyes in the moonlight, I could see April's as well. She used to lie there, next to the window for hours, especially when she was high. She said that the moon made her feel alive. Somehow, it made me feel hopeless. The moonlight wasowned by April, leased toMimi andused byRoger.It was never mine.

I sighed, throwing my scarf on the table and then quickly taking it back again and winding it around my neck. Hearing Roger enter Mimi's apartment, I congratulated myself on successfully evading him once again.

Not that I was doing anything wrong.

Because I wasn't.

And yet I couldn't believe myself.

Honestly, who was I fooling? I had read the Ten Commandments and to my mother's everlasting shame, I had delved a bit into the New Testament. I had read the part about it still being adultery even if you weren't screwing. I was just trying hard to forget about it.

But really, Mimi couldn't be blamed. Technically, I was the one lusting. She was perfectly content with her sex god, she didn't need a pale geek with glasses.

But really, could I be blamed because I found Mimi irresistible? She was beautiful, sexy. She first person who flirted with me after Maureen if you didn't count Angel. It was just my luck that she'd found Roger first.

"_As if you'd answer." _

I ran a hand through my pale blond hair. How could she know that I'd actually been picking up the phone lately, hoping that just once it would be her voice on the other end. She couldn't, and if it did, it wouldn't really matter. Even though Roger didn't deserve her, he was what she wanted and with him…they had the chance of being happy.

And if Mimi were happy, so was I, I convinced myself. I looked out the window again, straining to hear what might've been going on downstairs. It was oddly quiet and yet…I wondered.

_There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls._

**RFCRFCRFCRFCRFC**

The pain woke me up in the middle of the night. Every limb in my body hurt like hell. My tongue even hurt as I swabbed it around my dry mouth.

I hurt so good.

Every part of me that screamed out in pain reminded me that I was alive. I wasn't dead, I could feel parts of my body I had never thought about. I felt as if I had died and then been resurrected. The air smelled sweeter, the biting cold comforted rather than tormented me.

My bliss lasted until my eyelids fluttered open.

Mimi was sitting opposite me, staring at me, her usually warm brown eyes now cold.

"You will never say the things you said to me yesterday again," she stated firmly.

I tilted my head back and let out a laugh. "I won't?"

"No," she said. "Mark is a good guy, a good friend, a better one than you deserve. And despite what you think, I'm not a mindless slut. I don't fuck everything in sight like you used to do Roger."

"I know a few guys who could prove that wrong Meems," I said dryly.

"Fuck you!" she cried, pointing a ragged fingernail at me. "Fuck you! I've tried Roger! What the hell happened to you? Yesterday everything was fine, yesterday you weren't an asshole, you weren't keeping things from me!"

"Yesterday I didn't have a reason to be an asshole," I said quietly, wishing that Mimi would just shut up and leave me the hell alone.

"Are you still thinking that there was something between me and Mark? Fuck Roger, I wish I could be with someone like Mark. Maybe then I wouldn't be having all the problems I am now."

"If he's so great then why the hell are you with me?" I was still calm, I was the Jedi master of my emotions. It was oddly funny, Mimi screaming and squawking while I just laid down and longed for aspirin.

"I'm leaving," she announced as if that would move me somehow. "When I come back, I want you out."

"How am I supposed to go upstairs when I know that's where you'll be with Mark?"

Mimi didn't even confirm my suspicions, she just stormed out of the room.

And the most amazing thing? I didn't care. Didn't feel bad, didn't worry about the fact that she was probably crying on to Mark's shoulder. Didn't care at all.

I just rolled over and tried to get more sleep.

**RFCRFCRFCRFCRFCRFCRFC**

The knock on the door jarred me from my uneasy sleep. Fumbling for my glasses, I shoved them up my nose and as fast as I could manage, padded to the door.

It was sure to be Roger. Resenting the fact that he'd drawn me from my almost-warm bed to face the 1 a.m cold I whipped the door open. He must've lost his key again, the fuckwit.

_Charity, _I thought to myself. Not everyone was born with a brain. It was obvious by Roger's actions that he was one of the few who had been absent when smarts had been handed out.

"Mimi?" I asked, surprised to see her at my door. "What are you doing here? And so early?"

Tears were pouring from her eyes and she hiccupped as she tried to answer me. "Ro-Roger, came home…and he was beat up…and…and-"

"But Roger has been home for hours?" I asked, my lethargy quickly banished and forgotten. "I don't understand."

Mimi had finally calmed down enough to speak clearly. "He came home with all these bruises and cuts. And I was going to call you, I was. But then he said things…about you and me…and…I got so mad. Then he fell asleep."

Rage was bubbling up in me and I had to fight to keep it under control. "And then?"

"When he woke up, I told him that he was wrong and that there was nothing between us and…I don't know Mark, he's just not the same!"

Closing the door, I scooped Mimi up with less ease than was comfortable. She was the only person I knew skinnier than me and I knew that couldn't be good. I put her on the couch and held her close, hoping that she'd know that this was all I could do for her.

"Thanks Mark," she said at last. "I know I can't keep putting you in the middle but, since Angel's gone I-"

"Shh," I soothed her. "It's okay, I know. Roger can be an ass. But…" I licked my lips. "He loves you, you know he does."

"Sometimes I wonder," she confessed.

"Of course he does, who wouldn't?" I asked, a tinge more bitterly than I perhaps should've. "You're beautiful and funny and…" I trailed off. "I'm sorry," I stood up, removing myself from temptation. I stood behind the table, putting even more distance in between us. "I shouldn't tell you that."

Without speaking, Mimi crossed the small room and laid the softest of kisses on my mouth. "But you did."

**FCRFCRFCRFCRFCRFCRFCR**


	4. Chapter 4

**Please. Review. Special thanks to Renthead, who at the moment seems to be my bestest reviewer. I heart you. Oh yeah, and the 'everything remains insane' isn't mine, it's ****Michael Fry and T. Lewis**'.

**_Do you think it's cool  
To walk right up  
To take my life  
And fuck it up  
Well did you?_**

Chuckling to myself, I walked down Avenue B.

I stepped up to the apartment I'd seen Roger disappear into and placed something in his mailbox.

I wasn't worried, really I wasn't. From what I could tell of Roger, he wouldn't be the type to risk anything that made him feel good. He wouldn't tell his precious Mimi and he knew his little Mark much to well to tell him about Fight Club. He'd keep the first rule.

Slipping away as stealthily as I'd come, I walked away from Avenue B, from the smells and the sounds of people shitting and dying. A year ago I wouldn't have been caught dead in this place and now I was handing out business cards.

_The more things change, the more they remain... insane._

**RFCRFCRFCRFCRFCRFCR**

I stared, shocked that Mimi had kissed me. But she pulled back so quickly I was left to wonder if I'd just imagined it. Her brown eyes stared into mine and when I failed to make a protest, she kissed me again.

This time, I pulled back first. "Don't Mimi," I said, hating myself as I did.

Her face immediately crumpled. She backed away from me as if she'd been burned and her eyes had a shine to them that I was sickly sure was from tears. "Oh," she said, as if she understood, though I knew she didn't.

"Don't fuck with me Mimi!" I said, my voice harsher and louder than needed.

She winced, perhaps because she'd never really heard me yell that loud, unless I was yelling at Roger.

"Fuck with you?"

"You're dating Roger. You love Roger. Don't try to lie to me and say that you don't. I'm here, and I love you, but I'm not going to be with you while you're thinking of _him._"

She regained her composure and crossed the room nearer to me. "Is that what you think? That I'm using you?"

"What else am I supposed to think?" I said resentfully. "A few hours ago you were waiting for Roger and now I'm supposed to believe that you're pining for me?"

"I was waiting for Roger with you!" She shouted. Obviously, we'd both abandoned the fear of Roger hearing us from downstairs. Mimi took a deep breath to calm herself down. "I do love Roger," she said after thinking for a moment. "I really do," she said it again as if it were a realization. "Oh shit, what did I do? I'm so sorry Mark," her tears were pouring down her face now and I was starting to feel the tiniest bit guilty.

"It's okay," I said sincerely, just grateful that she'd missed my promulgation of love.

"Can I still stay here the night though?" She asked tremulously. "I don't know if I could stand going back down there tonight."

"Sure thing," I said. "I wouldn't rescind an invitation."

"Thanks," she said. "I'm really sorry, and I want you to know…Roger is my type."

_Great Meems, just rub it in,_ I thought. "I know," I said quietly.

"He can be so…fucking emotional, and he's hot and…" Mimi wasn't saying it, but I was sure she was thinking about how good he was in the sack.

"Mimi, I really don't-"

"No Mark, let me finish. We're good together because we're shit apart. But sometimes…" she ran a chilly hand down my cheek and sent shivers down my spine and somewhere else too. "I wish that I was good enough for you."

She let herself into Roger's bedroom before I had a chance to say anything.

_She wishes she were good enough for me?_

**RFCRFCRFCRFCRFCRFC**

I woke up in Mimi's apartment, but without her familiar weight next to me or on top of me or half lying on me.

Immediately, the regret that I'd thought I'd learned to forget was coming with full force. How could I've been such an ass to Mimi, the girl I loved?

It sort of reminded me of my last days with April, how I used to treat her like shit befire I found her body in my bathroom.

I wanted so bad to apologize to her, to make up for my obscene behavior. I'd accused her of sleeping with Mark! Mark, my best friend who would never hurt me. How could I have?

I pulled myself up from the couch, ignoring the pleas from my aching body to stop. It was my own fault, how could I have been so stupid? I'd gone to a club where guys pound each other for fun. I could've gotten killed.

And yet the notion of dying somehow didn't seem so ominous as it once had. Shaking my head, I stepped into the shower and let the hot water massage my body. The steady beating of the droplets reminded me of how I had felt at Fight Club…it felt so good that I never wanted it to stop…never wanted it to…

With more violence than needed, I quickly shut of the water.

This…thing…this past time, had to stop.

I couldn't go to Fight Club again, I wouldn't.

I would get Mimi back, apologize to Mark and everything will be back to normal. Everything would be perfect.

But knowing Mimi, she would need time. She had to feel as if she were accepting me back, as if she had the will to refuse me.

I headed down the stairs, eager to get out of this place.

Today would be a good day.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Touching you makes me feel alive   
Touching you makes me die inside_**

The Life was no more full than usual and yet to me…it felt painfully cramped.

Perhaps it was that our knees were a _little_ too close, that our conversation was a _little_ too intimate, that our whole scene was a _little_ too cozy.

I knew I shouldn't have been doing this.

I was playing with fire and begging to be burned.

And it felt so good…

Maybe because…when I could feel I was in danger…

I could feel I was alive.

She leaned in to reach for the salt and her hand brushed against mine. A tiny spark, one almost like the one in the kiss we'd shared jolted through me. She began to rub her hand against mine and I doubted whether she even knew she was doing it, or if it were something subconscious.

It was the most bizarre thing I ever took part in, but we stayed like that, rubbing hands for more than ten minutes. It was strange, but I was actually getting aroused by this…sexual gratification from non-sexual touching…I was definitely regressing. Her mouth opened slightly to release a moan and before I could stop myself, my lips fastened to hers.

This kiss was longer than the previous two and when it ended, it ended gracefully, without any of the force the last one had held.

"That was," Mimi stopped to let out a contented sigh, "incredible."

"Fucking incredible."

A dozen thoughts popped into my mind, satin sheets, red bedspreads, tangled bedcovers, breakfast on a silver tray, Mimi shuddering beneath me in a negligee I would never be able to afford…

And amidst all of them, an image of Roger.

So I kissed Mimi again to drive him from my mind.

RFCRFCRFCRFCRFC

Despite my promise to try and win Mimi back, I couldn't deny I was distracted. Instead of Mimi's long-legged body running through my mind, there was only broken-faced Tyler and Fight Club.

I couldn't eat.

I couldn't concentrate.

It was like being in love, but a thousand times more sordid.

I held out until nightfall.

Or maybe I waited until nightfall?

I didn't know which one was more accurate…

But my bet was on the latter. Either way, my feet didn't bring me to the doorstep until eight. And even then, I waited for awhile.

I wanted to go in…wanted to so bad…

But I couldn't.

So I walked away.

And I felt good. Like the first time I walked past the Man.

But like that first time walking past the Man, a moment passed before I passed by again and this time, I went inside.


	6. Chapter 6

**I believe I may have transcended the childish want for reviews. I mean, I got one review. One. Pretty depressing. I'm not even sure people are reading this, I'm really not.**

**Okay, so maybe I haven't transcended. So review.**

**RFCRFCRFCRFCRFC**

After breakfast with Mark, I went to the apartment, shaky legs and all, and I walked the two flights up to my room.

I was killing myself.

I didn't doubt that what I had said the day before had been painfully true, all of it. I loved Roger, it was a simple as that.

At least on paper it was.

Because paper wouldn't tell you that even though I'm in love with Roger, I couldn't help wanting Mark.

Which was okay. Because what I was feeling was lust. A cheap imitation of love that needn't be heeded.

But I had originally lusted after Roger. I knew all too well that lust could easily turn to love, with the right incentive.

And believe me, I had more reason to fall in love with Mark than I ever did to fall in love with Roger. Mark was safe, dependable, sweet, caring, considerate…

And a dozen other things that Roger just wasn't. He cared about me all the time, not just when he'd had a good day or when things were going well. Mark wasn't conditioned like Roger to think that love fell out of the sky and went around hitting people on the head. He appreciated it when it came along.

Logically, I should've already left Roger for Mark. And slowly but surely, the emotional part of me was beginning to catch up with the idea.

And a little part of me was beginning to believe that perhaps what I was feeling for Mark wasn't purely lust. At least not lust in the 'I want to jump your bones' sense of the word. Although I would have no problem with hopping into bed with Mark.

Hell, the idea of Mark and I in bed was turning me on. But not as much as the idea of laying in bed cuddling, or talking late at night.

But there was that damn feeling, that idea that I could change Roger, make him better so that we could be better.

It was only then I realized, that I wouldn't have to change Mark.

RFCRFCRFCRFC

I wasn't going to fight this time. Just watching them was enough, just like sometimes, watching April had been enough to get me off. It was the same thing.

"You came," Tyler's voice broke through the sounds of flesh against flesh, sweat pouring on the floor and bodies hitting the floor.

"Yeah," I said. I was finding it hard not to look at his bared chest. Clothed, he didn't scream Adonis, but once his clothes were off, you could see the benefits one reaped in Fight Club. "I did."

"I knew you would," he said, flashing one of his smiles. "How are you feeling?"

"Would you call me a pansy if I said 'like shit'?"

He laughed. "No. I did too, the first time I got into a fight. It gets easier."

I shifted uncomfortably. "Listen I don't know if I'm going to be able to do this-"

"Who found out?" he asked.

"What?"

"Who found out? I know someone did. You want to be here, you want to feel that same feeling you did yesterday. Hoping the high doesn't depreciate as fast as the one from marijuana or heroin." He glanced at my ashen face. "Don't worry," he quickly reassured me, "it doesn't. You have to fight for a long time before you start getting numb."

Despite myself, I let out a sigh of relief. "My girlfriend found out. She was scared shitless."

"Aw, that's cute."

"Yeah, fucking adorable. The point is, she doesn't want me doing this."

"Who would? She doesn't understand. Women in general don't. They aren't like us."

I was beginning to wonder if there was anyone like us. "They aren't like what?"

"They aren't governed by the same 'rules' we are. We are men who got tired of letting society dictate our actions, letting our fathers convince us that their lives were something we should want for ourselves. Maybe we don't all want to walk through our fucking white picket fences, have fucking 2.5 children meet us at the door and fuck a Donna Reed wife every night, pretending we're content. Maybe we don't all like Starbucks or hairless chests or perfectly sculpted bodies that should be in a fucking museum. Maybe we do. But don't you think that we should decide that for ourselves?"

That belonged on a fucking Hallmark card.

"So are you fighting tonight?" Tyler went on, barely giving me enough time to digest what he'd just said.

"No," I said, sticking to my original promise.

"Okay," he said. "You know I can't make you. But you'll be back, and you'll want to fight. It's not enough, just to watch."

There went my hopes, straight out the window.

"See you later."


	7. Chapter 7

**It's been awhile since I've updated, but this is the second to last chapter of a story which I think might (just might) have a decent ending! Snaps for me!**

**RFCRFCRFCRFCRFC**

Roger visited the loft later that night. Much later.

I could see what Mimi had been talking about. His nose was bruised, and his jaw was too. All together he looked like shit.

"What happened to you?"

"I wish people would stop asking that," Roger said lightly. "It's not the end of the world you know."

I smiled as I walked around the kitchen area. I couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop buzzing around. I was afraid that if I stopped he'd be able to see right through me.

"Mark?"

"What?" My blood ran cold in my veins. What if he already knew? Was he going to confront me? A thousand different scenarios of Roger kicking my ass flew through my head.

"If you really want something…if you really think it's right…what should you do?"

I breathed out a sigh of relief. What kind of dumb-ass question was that? "You should go for it," I said. I thought of Mimi. Of course this question didn't apply to that. "You should do whatever you're willing to to get what you want."

Roger nodded slowly as if carefully chewing over my advice.

"I'm going to bed," I said after wiping the last counter. See you in the morning."

RFCRFCRFCRFC

I didn't see Roger in the morning.

It wasn't actually highly unusual. If I had Mimi I probably wouldn't crash with my male roommate either.

The phone rang. I was amazed I had actually remembered to pay the bill.

"Hello?"

"Mark?"

Mimi. "Yeah?"

"Can we talk?"

She wasn't whispering like I expected her to. It was almost as if she didn't care if Roger found out about what wasn't going on between the two of us.

She probably didn't, after all, it was my ass that was going to be kicked, not hers.

"What about Meems?" I asked guardedly.

"About what happened yesterday."

She still wasn't whispering. "Look Mimi, are you sure we should be talking about this right now with your boyfriend in the next room? He's dumb, not deaf."

"Roger? He isn't in the next room."

"God Meems, he's in the room with you? He's not that light of a fucking sleeper you know! When my ass is served on a platter, I'll know who to fucking thank-"

"Shut up Mark, he isn't here!"

"He isn't?"

"No. I thought you knew where he was."

Quickly I checked Roger's room. Everything was the same from his dirty socks on the floor to his posters on the wall.

His guitar sat abandoned in an empty corner.

Not completely abandoned. There was a piece of paper.

A note.

"Mimi," I spoke into the receiver once again, "Roger's gone."

RFCRFCRFCRFCRFCRFCRFC

Roger and April must've been hatched from the same egg. In a way, they were truly perfect for one another. Neither of them could handle when things got tough, and so instead they tried to run away.

Except April had killed herself, whereas Roger just literally ran away. Again.

It was his way. So it wasn't surprising when Roger didn't come home that night. Or the next, or the next.

Because Roger was weak, and that's how he handled things.

Didn't check in with me, Mimi, Maureen, Joanne or even Collins.

But no one really expected him to. He'd stuck it out in Santa Fe for almost two months, a few weeks was nothing.

But then two months passed. Two whole months. Months during which he was nowhere to be found, nowhere to be heard of.

Occasionally I would see a Roger doppelganger skulking around. But the real thing was gone.

Two months can pass by very slowly while you're both mourning and rejoicing the loss of a friend.

Four more months pass by even slower, as you begin to realize that; even though your friend is gone, he's still managing to fuck you over.

But six months also tends to lessen the expectation of ever seeing the beloved shitface again.

So imagine my surprise when I opened the door to my apartment to find him sitting at my-our table.


	8. Chapter 8

**The last stretch, here's the end! Eight pages goshdarnit!**

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I couldn't stop myself, the words just slipped out. I wondered desperately why I hadn't just stayed with Mimi, in Mimi's apartment, making love to Mimi, soaking up everything Mimi.

Not that we were making love.

Because every time we tried, every time _I _tried I thought of _him._

Like I said, there he was, fucking me over.

I caught a whiff of Mimi as I anxiously whipped off my coat.

I grimaced. I smelled like Roger, minus the kinky sex and stale cigarettes.

"Good to see you too."

Roger's words snapped me back to reality. I instinctively prepared myself for anything that he would throw at me, lies, pleas for forgiveness, inanimate objects.

He had this look in his eyes…I hadn't seen it since before the drugs.

He looked so incredibly…_alive._

It scared the hell out of me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again.

He winced. "I know I've been gone a couple months-"

"Six months isn't a couple Roger. You were gone for half a year," I said darkly.

From where I was standing I could clearly see that he'd changed. His hair was clipped shorter than I'd ever seen it, a buzz cut. His flaccid arms had regained their former strength and then some. He looked almost…_primal_…like a jungle cat. And I was the prey, waiting to be pounced on.

"Are you going to sit down?" he asked, gesturing towards the table.

I did sit, warily though.

Close up I could see even more of him. His fingers which had always been calloused from playing the guitar were now pink soft tips without any prints on them. His nails were clipped short and I could see on his hand a kiss shaped scar.

"Who gave that to you?" I asked grabbing his hand with my own.

Roger winced again and pulled his hand away quickly. "No one," he said. "You know, shit happens."

"Where were you?" I tried asking a different question to see if I got anything.

"I was here."

"Here, in New York?"

"Yeah."

How fucking ironic. So he hadn't really left after all. But that still didn't really answer my question.

"In that case, where the hell have you been?"

"That I can't tell you."

"You can't?" I was more than a little incredulous. "You've been gone for six months, left your girlfriend, your best friend, your home for six months and you can't say where the hell you've been sleeping?"

"No."

"Are you planning on staying?"

"No."

"Then why the fuck are you here?"

Roger took a deep breath. He tried to run his fingers through his hair before he remembered about it being cut off. I got a perverse sense of pleasure from that, seeing him missing something he couldn't get back. "What time is it?" he asked suddenly.

Was he serious? He was asking what time it was? "It's 7:43."

"Come with me!" Roger implored, grabbing my arm and dragging me out the door. "I'm going to show you where I was."

RFCRFCRFCRFC

I was going to be sick. There was no doubt about it.

It's not that I'm squeamish…I'm not.

But seeing copious amounts of any bodily fluid had never been my thing.

Not that I had actually _seen_ anything yet…but I could smell it.

I glanced at Roger. Obviously he wasn't sharing my disgust…he looked…excited.

He pulled open the door…

I don't know what I had been expecting…an all singing, all dancing musical…a book signing…a blood drive…

I didn't expect _this._

I should've felt hideously overdressed in my shirt and jeans…all the guys were shirtless…and yet, I didn't. It was almost as if some sort of spell had been cast over me. I felt virile and strong…I felt like a man. I was surrounded by men I might not have known, but I felt like I had known them forever…and they were looking at Roger as if he were some sort of god…

As if he was their savior.

And in the dirty golden light with his tan skin glowing and his blonde hair shining…I wouldn't be inclined to disagree with them.

Roger opened his mouth and let out his sweet, ragged voice. As he spoke I began to understand why April had always described it as orgasm-inducing.

"Welcome to Fight Club."

RFCRFCRFCRFC

The spell was wearing off now and I was more than glad. It scared me, how I'd felt when I first arrived…like I would've done anything for Roger. It was almost as if I didn't have control over myself.

But in this dark corner, I could see clearly what was going on here.

I had never expected Roger to be drawn into this type of pseudo-anarchy. In this place there was a feeling of lawlessness despite the list of rules Roger had read at the start and the ones he'd said casually to the select few. Only a few came to mind.

Do not talk about Fight Club.

Do not ask questions.

Trust Tyler.

I wondered who this Tyler person was the whole crowd seemed to rave about. That is I wondered until he found me nestled away.

"Howdy Doody?" he asked when he saw me crouching in a corner. "Is that you?"

"What?" I asked, turning towards the voice. "Tyler?" I asked, immediately recognizing him from a Life Support meeting. "What are you doing here?"

He just grinned.

"You're not…wait, you are, aren't you? The Tyler everyone here talks about?"

"Sure. Close enough anyway. Wait, your name's coming to me…Mark, right?"

I nodded.

He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Roger told me he might bring you tonight. So…" he glanced me up and down, taking in my clothes and unscathed appearance as he lit his cigarette. "You didn't fight."

"No," I said quickly. "Fighting really isn't my thing…the whole thing with blood…and bruises…and glasses. Brings back too many painful bully memories."

"You do know the rules right?" He took a long drag. "Rule Number 5, if it's your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight."

"Maybe next time," I insisted.

"This is going to be your last time," Tyler said confidently with one last suck on his cigarette. "I think we both know that." He stamped it out before leaving me alone with my thoughts.

He was right. When I had removed myself from the crowd and stepped out from under that cloud of awe and illusionment I had seen this place as it really was. A dirty, dank, disgusting place where men pounded each other just to reassure their sick masculinity. It wasn't something I was drawn to, not like Roger who had gone in headfirst.

When the crowd started to thin, Roger found me.

"What'd you think?" he asked excitedly, fumbling to fit his hands inside his pockets.

I didn't say anything at first. Didn't want to hurt his feelings. But I really didn't have a choice.

"I hated it."

He sort of looked like a little boy who had just been rejected. In a way, I guess he was. It was apparent that if I rejected Fight Club, I was rejecting him too. "Wha-"

"Really Rog, what did you expect me to say? That I loved it? That it gave me warm and cuddly feelings? You have HIV Roger, or did you forget about that? Did you ever think about how every time you get a bloody nose how you're infecting every guy there? What about that?"

His face remained unchanged. "They know the consequences, they choose to take the risks."

What the fuck? "You honestly believe that?" I turned away, unable to even look at him. "You're not the Roger I knew-"

"Yes I am Mark! This is who I've always been! I'm not some heartless bastard, I'm not, but I was never the guy you wanted me to be. I tried Mark, but I never was."

"So this is what you choose. Mimi, she was worried for you, you sick bastard. She fucking loves you, she waits for you, she wants you, and this is what your choice?"

This is why I hated talking to Roger, because once I started, I just couldn't stop.

"I love Mimi Mark, you know that but-"

"No Roger, there should be no buts. That should be it. You love her. But that isn't enough is it?"

Silence.

"Answer me. It's not enough that she loves you, that she doesn't love m-" I covered myself, if a little slowly, "that she gave up _everything _for you. None of it's enough."

"Mark, I-"

"No Roger, I can't do this. You need to make a decision. Mimi's not going to wait forever." I took a deep breath, not believing that this was happening. "And neither will I."

And for a moment, I thought he would give me the last word, that he would watch as I walked out the door. But he couldn't. Damn the fuckwit, he was always for leaving things on his own terms.

"Wait Mark."

Damn me to hell, because I did. "What?"

He shifted back and forth and beneath his buzz cut and his muscles, I could see that scared little boy again. "Tell Mimi I love her. Don't tell her about this place. Tell her I love her, but I'm not good enough. Maybe you are, but I'm not."

I must've looked at him with surprise, because he answered my question before I even asked it.

"I'm not dumb Mark. I can smell her all over you."

Shit.

"And I'm happy for you. You deserve that."

"She wants you," I said, voicing the fear I'd had all along.

"No she doesn't," Roger said, shaking his head. "She thinks she does, but she doesn't. She wants you. It's your job to show her how much."

I left after that and I can remember thinking that it was _almost _worth not having the last word, just to hear him say that.

RFCRFCRFCRFCRFCRFC

I couldn't believe that had just happened.

"I can't fucking believe that just happened."

Tyler let out a low laugh from behind me. He'd finally put his shirt back on, though it was just a thin tank top. "No shit. I guess he doesn't lay down the law very often for you."

I didn't answer.

"I always thought you would be the guy in the relationship," he chuckled again before slapping my back.

"If we had been a couple, I suppose I'd've been the one wearing the pants," I mused.

"Sticking your tongue down someone's throat or fucking them into oblivion does not make two people a couple," Tyler said casually, doing a couple quick push-ups. "But two people don't have to do either of those things to be a couple." He threw another look at me as he pushed up from the ground. "I think you and Mark have been a serious couple in a serious relationship for quite some time."

He was right. He was fucking right. Maybe that was why it had been so hard with April and Mimi. I'd always put Mark before them.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Tyler finished, getting up from the ground.

"Yeah right." I had never been that touchy about my sexuality, but Tyler made me hyperaware. "You're an alpha male."

"I once had a very serious relationship with a guy. Sexy as hell."

"Really? Who?"

"Myself."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I really don't think that counts."

"But it does," he said, lying back on the floor. "Anyway, enough about me. What are you going to do? I don't think Howdy Doody would be receptive to your coming home right now, if that's what you were thinking."

I needed time to think. Time to sort out my priorities. I bit my lip, giving Tyler the smallest sideways glance ever.

"Just ask man."

"Can I keep crashing with you?"

"Can't," he said shortly, gathering up the few things he'd brought with him. "I'm actually heading out."

Heading out? "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Roger, it's been six months. I've got to move on. I'm thinking Atlanta or somewhere else warm. I'm so fucking sick of the damn cold."

How great for him.

How fucking horrible for me.

"You can stay here and head up this sect, or…"

Or what?

"Or what?"

"Or you could come with me."

What?

"What?"

"No man is an island," Tyler said. "And Marla wouldn't mind," he added as an afterthought.

Despite the fact that I highly doubted that Tyler's petite, spitfire of a wife wouldn't mind me living with them, I still only thought about it for all of a minute.

I'd never been to Georgia.

I slowly nodded yes.

"I am Jack's utter lack of surprise," Tyler muttered underneath his breath. He looked me up and down a couple times. "And you; you are Jack's Roger."

And even though I did not what the hell that meant, I wasn't about to disagree.


End file.
